Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer,
Yet then my judgement knew no reason why
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
But reckoning time, whose millioned accidents
reep in 'twixt vows and change decrees of kings
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
Divert strong minds to th' course of alt'ring things -
Alas, why, fearing of time's tyranny,
Might I not then say `Now I love you best',
When I was certain o'er incertainty,
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?
Love is a babe, then might I not say so,
To give full growth to that which still doth grow.

- William Shakespeare   

It sometimes seems to me that the whole of Philosophy is only a meditation of Shakespeare.

                                                                   - Emmanuel Levinas

Three of the Ususal Suspects
That was Sonnet #115